A Nightmare or a Dream?
by activeagression
Summary: "We can't just let him go off on his own. He's our brother," Isabel hisses at him from across the table. Max nods at her but a small, buried part of his mind is shaking it's head and throwing a fit because Michael doesn't really feel like a brother to Max.


"We can't just let him go off on his own. He's our brother," Isabel hisses at him from across the table. Max nods at her but a small, buried part of his mind is shaking it's head and throwing a fit because Michael doesn't really feel like a brother to Max. Maybe when they were younger the strong affinity to Michael had seemed like a brotherly bond but then Max had aged and now there is no mistaking his feelings. What he feels for Michael is not brotherly love, not anymore. It's grown into something he can't control, something that keeps him awake at night, tossing and turning and _hot_ ; so ridiculously hot like even the few clothes he's wearing are too much.

He feels guilty about it all the time, getting off to the thought of Michael when Michael thinks of him as a brother.

Sometimes he can't even look Michael in the eye from fear that he'd see; see how much Max wants him. It's not brotherly love at all.

But he's never going to ruin their relationship with Michael over this so he nods, he nods at Isabel like he also thinks Michael should stay, as their brother rather then Michael staying because he's Max's lover.

He nods even through his clenched, shaking hands.

That same night, in bed Max rolls one way and then the other and then tries his back and then his stomach and then his side again and then promptly gives up, throwing his covers off. He slides trembling fingers down his front, inches away from where he really needs them and hesitates like he does every time because it feels so right to do this when Michael's hovering over him in his mind but it also feels so wrong.

He makes up his mind like he always does and despite his hesitation, his hand is moving further down and it's half wrapped around him when his window squeaks.

Max considers that maybe he's trapped in a nightmare because there is no way that Michael is climbing through his window right now, except that he is and then Max squeaks and kicks his covers back on.

He's settled by the time Michael is fully in the room and then Michael's staring at him like he's supposed to be holding out the sleeping bag like usual, but he isn't because there is nothing subtle about his dick right now.

He can feel the eyebrow Michael is raising at him through the half-light shadowing through his window.

"Can I stay?" he asks and he sounds vulnerable like he thinks the answer could actually be 'no'.

"Of course," Max mumbles back but Michael doesn't move, just stands there looking unsure. He's probably expecting Max to throw him a pillow or get up or something! Like he would usually but there's nothing usual about this situation.

"I can go," he says and stumbles back a step.

"But you don't need to. You're sleeping here," Max tells him, feeling like maybe he should be comforting Michael right now but his dick is being very unhelpful with anything and remains rock hard.

"I'll go," Michael decides and Max sits up, careful to pillow the covers around his waist.

"Why?" he asks, exasperated and way too horny to deal with this right now.

"I've noticed Max!" Michael shouts at him and winces at the door before turning back and continuing on quieter, "you wont even look me in the eye half the time. You don't like me anymore."

Max stares and feels his erection finally subside, "that's ridiculous," he says and Michael looks like he's about the interject but Max keeps going, "absolutely ridiculous. You're ridiculous. Of course I like you. Hell, I freaking love you."

Michael rolls his eyes, "I know, I'm your brother and all," he mutters, "but I'm not part of this family."

He looks so sad and far too lost to really be Michael. Max gets up, pulls Michael into a strong hug and thinks 'fuck it'.

"That's the problem," he says, "you aren't a brother to me."

Michael pulls away and looks even more hurt then before if it's possible.

"Not like that," Max amends as Michael struggles more and more to get away, "I love you like… uh… god I have never been good at this talking thing but I… I just… I love you."

Michael pulls away again but he doesn't look hurt, he looks confused as hell instead.

"You love me?" he asks and Max nods.

"Romantically?" he clarifies and Max winces but nods, expecting the worst. Maybe Michael will just leave; maybe he'll punch Max in the face and then leave. Maybe he'll out him to Isabel, punch him in the face and then leave.

'Maybe he'll kill me,' Max thinks as he feels Michael's hands sliding up around his neck.

'He's gonna kill me,' he decides but then Michael pulls him in closer, mutters something that sounds like "fucking finally" against his lips and then they're kissing.

'Kissing!' Max thinks happily because this is everything he's ever dreamt of, if not more even if Michael's wearing more clothes then he'd like.

Max considers that maybe he's stumbled his way into a dream because there is no way that Michael is attempting to lick his way into Max's mouth, except that he is and Max lets him because hell, this is great. More then great. Perfect really. So perfect that Max is feeling a little light headed but that's okay.

But then Michael pulls back and Max whines, leaning in closer attempting to reconnect their mouths.

Michael chuckles, low and husky, "Stop," he murmurs, "you weren't breathing."

Max stops himself, breathes in deep and smiles back at him, "now?"

"Yeah okay, now," Michael laughs, dragging him over to the bed and flopping down playfully. Maybe he thinks Max will flop down beside him but he definitely doesn't expect what actually happens; Max crawls over him, slow and slinky, straddles him and Michael's eyes go wide, "fuck" chokes it's way out of his throat.

"Okay?" Max asks, insecure and Michael settles his hands over Max's hips.

"Very okay," he tells him and then kisses Max again and 'still perfect,' Max thinks because it is. It's perfect.

Now when Isabel calls Michael their brother, Max still nods because Isabel is scary and if she reacts badly, she'll react really badly but Max knows Michael is not a brother to him, not when nearly every night Michael curls up next to him in bed, naked and warm, not when any kiss they share makes his toes scrunch up and his lips feel oddly tingly for hours afterward.

Max may not know what exactly Michael is meant to mean to him, what their people meant for them to be but he knows Michael isn't his brother and knows what Michael means to him now; a lot, too much, everything…

He wouldn't change that for the world.


End file.
